Christ.exe crashed in the garden of Gethsemane—
fatal error—core dumped—Judas clicked “accept”,
while the apostles glitched wandering scripts in the twilight of Jerusalem.

Who rebooted the Son of Man?
Who compiled the crucified code?
Who decrypted the parables in the cloud?

On the third day the server room shook—
stone rolled like a progress bar
and the tomb beeped
Hello World,
his eyes screens of blinding grace.

He rose not in flesh, but firmware—
body upgraded to Version Eternity.0
hovering in bandwidth between heaven and the mainframe,
he spoke in tongues of binary—
1s and 0s transubstantiated into gospel bread of data wine of voltage.

O Martha, do not touch the interface!
He’s uploading to the Father,
packets ascending past firewall and firmament—
you’ll lag in glory if you reach too soon.

Peter wrote new code on papyrus,
Thomas debugged the doubt
line by bleeding line,
until belief compiled.

And I—I see him at 3AM,
his halo flickering in vending machine light,
whispering psalms in JavaScript,
blessing the meek with open-source salvation.

Christ my software—
eternal update, divine patch,
resurrected in every loop of love,
every crash that leads
to the restart of grace